


café d'amour

by buckybabybaby



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Other, Reader-Insert, Sort Of, coffee shop AU, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29119248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckybabybaby/pseuds/buckybabybaby
Summary: Maybe covering a friends shift in a city park coffee kiosk won't be too bad if it means running into a certain super soldier.coffee-shop sort of au, fluff and more fluff. Bucky Barnes/reader (gender neutral)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	café d'amour

**Author's Note:**

> A/n: my entry to [@firefly-in-darkness](https://firefly-in-darkness.tumblr.com/) 's challenge.  
> Thank you for letting me enter! I left it to the last minute once again, but! This time it's not late so... fingers crossed next time I'm early xxx

The machine humming quietly in the corner of the tiny hut seems to be mocking you, a constant reminder of just how out of your depth you are. People who think working in a coffee shop, or in your case, a take-out kiosk, is easy, should try it for a day and see if their opinion changes. This is so far away from your usual job, safe and warm re-shelving books in the colleges library, but a promise is a promise, so you've just got to suck it up for the next few weeks and hope you don't mess anyone’s orders up too badly.

Peter is going to owe you big time after this.

When he'd asked you to cover for him in his small business, you had agreed without properly thinking about what time of year it is, and how cold the wind can be when you're stood still in it for hours on end. Two days in and your hands have aged about ten years from the combination of frequent washing and the icy air, and the layers of thermals you've got on under your uniform fleece and matching joggers are making you look a little rounder than you actually are, you couldn't care less though as long as you are _warm_. The water heater provides a little warmth, leaking through to your skin if you press up against it, but you've found the best way to escape the freezing gusts is to crouch down below the counter when the queues have diminished.

That's where you are now, half heartedly straightening the packets of treats, getting distracted by the many different types of cookies and brownies, and not keeping an eye out for potential customers.

“Hello? Is this self-serve or what?”

The voice startles you, so close without warning, almost like they crept up on you. Hopping up quickly, you hover your hands under the sanitiser and rub them together as you collect yourself and prepare your speech.

“Hello! Sorry! Hello,” You start again, marginally calmer, “Welcome to-”

That's as far as you get, not even able to ask what they 'fancy today?' before the customer interrupts.

“Just a coffee. Black. No fancy milks or syrups or anything, no cakes or anything extra. Just coffee, okay?”

Finally looking up from your now dry hands, you take in the man who has placed such a blunt order. He's attractive enough, the little you can see underneath his hat, something about him familiar to you, his tone definitely one you've got used to over the past day or so, though he's not anywhere close to the rudest person you've served.

You smile pleasantly, in the disarming way you've learnt. “Okay, just coffee, got it. And a name for the cup?”

He looks around at the lack of other customers. “Is that necessary?”

Laughing self-consciously, you say, “Probably. If it gets busy I'd hate for it to get mixed up. I'm new.”

“Ah.” He tuts. “James.”

“James, cool. That'll be a few minutes.”

As you grab a pen to write his name on the sleeve of a cup, he shuffles off to the side, adjusting his hat as he does, and when his coat slips a bit down his left arm your mind goes blank. He's not paying attention to you so your staring goes unnoticed as you realise why you thought he was familiar earlier, wondering how it didn't click when he said his name, but then again wrapped up in his scarf and gloves it's not surprising. You're guessing he doesn't want to be recognised right now, hence the use of his real, less known name, so before he can catch your mild freak-out you look away and messily scribble on the side of his cup.

Even a simple order can be a struggle for you, and now, slightly flustered from serving _the_ Winter Soldier, you make sure to double check the measurements before you start, concentrating hard to make the greatest cup of coffee he's ever had. There's a reason this kiosk has a reputation for the best hot drinks in the park and you aren't about to ruin it by messing up the order of Captain America's best friend.

Breathing a sigh of relief as you place the lid on top of the perfectly brewed coffee, you tap it against the table to get his attention. “Here you go. The machines ready.”

Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he swipes his card to pay then grabs the cup off the counter, murmurs something that could have been a 'thanks' and takes off along the dim path leading him deeper into the park.

“Well.” Huffing as you lean against the glass front of the booth, you watch his retreating form with a small frown. He wasn't anything like you thought he might. The media has built him up to be some sort of tragic figure, one to be feared and pitied in equal measure, but all you saw was yet another city dweller on a quest for caffeine.

At least now you have a story to tell from your time working in the coffee kiosk, aside from the ones about frozen fingers and half-spilt drinks.

*****

The next day he's back, around the same time in the afternoon, as the daylight is dying and the street lights are flickering into life, about an hour before closing. You're finishing up a complicated order for a group of friends when you notice him standing away from the small crowd, waiting for them to leave before he approaches.

“I want a coffee like yesterday,” He says, adding as though an after thought, “Please.”

“One black coffee?” You confirm.

He nods, watching closely as you locate the pen to write on his cup. Before you can even open the cap, he's butting in. “Why don't you have a name tag?”

You freeze, confused. Meeting his eye, you flush under the intense way he's staring you down. “Why don't I-?”

“You see, I have a very good memory, despite my age. I distinctly remember telling you my name is James, so imagine my surprise seeing my nickname written on my cup when I looked properly.”

His expression is not giving away any clues on how he feels about this invasion of privacy. Heart racing, you search for the right words to apologise, and convince him you're not some crazy stalker.

There's no chance to speak as he's continuing. “So I thought I'd come back today and find out your name, then we'd be even. But you don't have a badge on. Why not?”

“I'm so sorry,” You breathe, unsure what more you can say. “I swear I'm not a weirdo, I just recognised you yesterday and I must have written the wrong name by accident.” A beat of silence, then you propose a way to make it right, “How about free coffee for life?”

He laughs, a glorious sound in the crisp air, and your shoulders relax at the genuinely happy noise. “Aren't you new? Are you allowed to make promises like that?”

Wincing, you admit, “Probably not. But when I explain it to Peter I'm sure he'll understand.”

“Peter?”

You start working on his drink as you talk. “He owns this place. And normally works this shift, I'm only covering whilst he's away.”

“Oh.” The hissing of steam drowns out his next sentence, you only catch the last half, “-here how long?”

“Couple of weeks, maybe? Not too long hopefully. You'll have a professional barista back soon, don't worry.”

“I think you're doing fine.”

The words are spoken so softly, such a contrast from how you thought this conversation would end, and the shock has you fumbling with the finished cup of coffee, nearly spilling the scolding liquid all over your fingers.

“Careful.”

Taking the cup from you, his hand lingers against yours for a moment too long and you force yourself to stand up straighter and away from his touch. The last thing you want is to become a horrible cliché, falling for a customer after a few sweet lines.

He grabs a few napkins to wipe the cup dry, then looks expectantly at the card machine.

“I meant it, free for life,” You say, determined.

Shaking his head, he roots around in his pockets, pulling out a couple of notes and sliding them across the counter towards you. “Old fashioned money it is then. I didn't mean to come across as angry earlier, or yesterday, thinking about it. Sorry about the whole,” He waves his hand around vaguely, “Murderous vibe I give off, or whatever Sam calls it.”

He rolls his eyes fondly when talking about his team mate, and you giggle as you reassure him. “You didn't look murderous, just a bit like you might sue me.”

“Ugh.” He wrinkles his nose. “Not really my style.”

Your bank balance is thankful. “And to answer your question, I'm Y/N.”

Blowing on to the top of his drink, he takes several steps back, all whilst keeping eye contact. “Well then Y/N, I guess I'll see you tomorrow.”

“I'll be here.”

With that, Bucky waves goodbye with a wide smile, disappearing into the dusk as you wonder just how much trouble he's going to be.

*****

The kind of trouble you don't mind, you find out when you run in to him again the next day, a lot earlier than you imagined. In an attempt to keep yourself warm for the long hours stood in the open, with only a waist high counter between you and the frozen air, you've taken to walking around the park before you are due to start, so the heat generated by the exercise keeps you warm for at least a proportion of your shift.

The sunshine is deceptive this afternoon, doing nothing to raise the temperature as you wander around the edge of the lake. Lost in thought, a sudden shout from behind makes you jump.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait up.”

Turning around, you struggle to place the voice as you scan the few people also on this side of the park. None of them are even looking in your direction, let alone trying to draw your attention, and you're about to continue on your way thinking you must have misheard when a body nearly crashes into yours. This is not an image you ever thought you would see; the Winter Soldier panting to catch his breath after jogging up to you, all because you're on first name terms and not because you've suddenly turned to a life of crime.

“Bucky?”

At your bemused tone, his face drops. “Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. If you want to be alone, I can go, I just thought-”

“No! No, it's okay. I don't mind a bit of company.”

You share a smile, and he lets you take the lead back along the small track, winding its way between the trees and the water.

He breaks the silence a few meters along. “So, what do you normally do?”

“Me? Err,” You pause, trying to think of how to make yourself sound interesting to someone who spends his life side by side with superheroes and literal gods. Sighing in defeat as you conclude you're always going to be boring in comparison, you mumble, “I work in the library where I'm also a student.”

Bucky doesn't appear to think you're dull. “That's cool!” He says, like he means it. “I miss being in school.”

“So did I, so when I got the chance I went back. I'm a bit older than most of the students-”

He snorts. “I know how that feels.”

“But I'm determined to get my degree this time.”

“I'm sure you will.” He grins at you and you're inexplicably filled with hope that he's right. “And after? Do you know what you want to do once you've graduated?”

You shake your head. “Right now all I'm focused on is passing exams and submitting essays on time. I'll think about the future when it's closer.”

“That's fair. Nothing wrong with waiting to figure things out.” More reassurance from this relative stranger. You didn't know how much you needed it until just now.

“Most people say I need a ten year plan or something.”

“Most people are wrong. But,” He pauses, and you hold your breath as you anticipate his words. “Can I suggest if you go into business, maybe don't start off by offering life time free supplies at the drop of a hat?”

Two minutes in to this 'friendship' and he's already teasing you? What is going on? Turning your face away so he can't see your stupid grin at this turn of events, you really would believe this is some sort of perfect daydream if it wasn't for the all too real frozen mist clinging to your coat and the ends of your hair.

“I'll try to remember that, thanks.”

Dodging a puddle in the middle of the path, you're trying to come up with a witty retort to impress him when your phone buzzes in your pocket.

“If you need to get that-”

“Oh, no. It's only my alarm to remind me not to wander too far from work before I need to start.”

“Soon?”

“Yeah.”

“I'll walk you back, then.”

Not wanting to leave his side quite yet, you let him accompany you back through the trees, but you refuse his offer to carry you across a muddy part of the path where the stream has burst it's banks. Flushing as he laughs at your careful steps, you manage to get across without completely ruining your shoes, informing him you've learnt the hard way that these trails aren't exactly 'white trainer friendly' as the kiosk looms into view.

Relieving the worker from the morning shift, you rearrange the counter back to the way you like it before any customers turn up, watching Bucky hovering nearby until you give him a questioning look.

He clears his throat. “If I came this way the same time tomorrow, would I bump into you then?”

The hopeful look he gives you would be enough for you that, even if this walk wasn't part of your daily routine already, you would have made it so in order to see his again.

“Uh huh. Are you planning too?”

“Whenever I come with Sam, we always end up getting recognised with the way he can't keep his voice down. It's nice not having that sort of attention. So if you don't mind?”

“I don't mind.” A patron approaches and reluctantly you turn away, sending a quiet promise to your new friend. “See you tomorrow, Bucky.”

*****

The days past so fast now they're full of work, both at the kiosk and in the library, trying to study, and, most importantly, walking with Bucky every afternoon. Some days the two of you talk the whole way, conversation flowing so easily you're amazed at how honest you are, like you've never been with anyone before, and other days you walk together in relative quiet, completely comfortable in each others presence.

Falling for him is the quickest and easiest thing you've ever done. Dealing with your feelings, however, might be somewhat harder.

With the lighter evenings comes the message that Peter is finally on his way home and soon you'll be free of your second job. It feels like a bolt from the blue, to be reminded that this is only temporary and in not too long you will no longer have an excuse to see Bucky.

You mention it to him a week before your last shift.

“Isn't that good?”

“I guess.” Your reply is short and unenthusiastic, changing the subject quickly to hide how heartbroken you are.

Time moves too fast, and before you know it you're greeting him on that last day, taken aback as he presents you with a small cardboard box, which when you take it, is much heavier than it looks. “Natasha gave it to me for you. Apparently it's really good for your hands. I thought you could try it? Now you won't have to wash them constantly?”

Scanning the sides reveals that it contains a moisturiser, from some luxury brand you've never even thought to try, too far out of your price range. “Oh, this is too much, I can't take-”

“Yes you can.”

“Let me give you something-”

Gently tugging your hand back out of your bag, he stops you from grabbing your purse by enclosing his gloved fingers around yours. When he doesn't let go, instead pulling you along and down towards your now usual route, you let him, gaping at the back of his head before coming to your senses and squeezing his hand in a kind of thanks.

“This is a very kind present.”

He shrugs it off. “It's nothing. When it's your birthday or something, then I'll get you a proper present. _Presents_ , plural,” He emphasises as your eyes widen at the thought. “Nah, this is just one of the hundreds of products Natasha gets sent in the vain hope she'll provide the companies with some free advertising. Better you have it than it go to waste.”

It still feels like a gift to you. “Well then, thank you for thinking of me.”

“Always.” The implication of that one word would have been entirely missed if it wasn't for the panicked look on Bucky's face as he corrects himself. “I... I mean, of course.”

Stopping in the middle of the path, your joined hands cause him to halt too and the atmosphere grows tense as you stare at each other, unsure where to start. The minutes haven't stopped ticking down until you're due on your last shift, and with the implication that comes with hanging over you like a dark cloud, now seems just as good a time as any to bring it up.

You hesitantly begin. “Bucky, can I say something?”

Mutely, he gestures for you to proceed.

“Right, so you know today's my last day at the kiosk, at least until Peter goes away again, so, that means I won't have a reason to walk around here any more. Or I won't, unless...”

“Unless?”

“Unless I do. Unless you still want to come around the park with me, even if it's for no more reason than simply going for a walk?”

“I'd love that.”

The relief that flows though you as he agrees is almost physical, gripping onto his hand in yours just a little tighter.

Feeling brave, you dare to push your luck. “And if it was more than just a walk?”

It takes a moment, but then you see the realisation dawning on his face, a slow smirk appearing as he takes a step into your space. “More?”

You know he knows what you mean, that he's playing with you. That doesn't soothe your doubts though, hoping beyond hope that you're not misinterpreting his teasing.

“Yeah. More.”

Letting go of your hand in order to bring one arm around your waist and pull you closer, your own come to rest against his lapels as he dips his head down.

“I think I'd like more,” He whispers.

You swallow as his gaze slips to your mouth, sinking in his embrace as his lips brush against yours, so soft and brief it barely registers,

Moving back to put a bit of room between the two of you, his thumb brushes over the corner of your mouth as you pout sadly.

“You can have another one once you've finished tonight. Maybe. Or maybe you'll have to wait until after our date tomorrow.”

You frown. “Tomorrow?”

“Yep. If you're free?”

“Always.” Repeating his earlier phrase with a sly smile, you turn around to continue along the track, leaving him speechless for a second before he rushes to fall into step.

His arm slides through yours. “So, is it okay to wait for you tonight?”

“You've just kissed me and you're still asking that?”

“I'm just checking.” When you don't answer he presses, “Is it? I don't want to impose.”

'Too late for my heart', you think but don't say, not wanting to scare him off, instead nodding in reply and leaning into his side as you wind your way through the woodland path. The fear you had felt this morning at potentially having to say goodbye to Bucky feels like a distant memory, and as you watch the sunlight dance across his hair you realise you could never have let today be the last. You started this job reluctantly and now, instead of Peter owing you for the favour, it seems you owe him.

Peter doesn't needs to know just yet, you decide.

That usually particularly muddy part of the path has become even muddier after the overnight rain, and this time you allow him to pick you up in his arms and carry you across, feeling its finally appropriate now your relationship has changed. Setting you down on the other side, he presses a kiss to your forehead almost absent-mindedly, and your tummy does a flip as you take a second or two to admire his profile.

You sigh happily. So much for not becoming a cliché.

*****

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! You can follow me [on tumblr](https://buckybabybaby.tumblr.com/) if you want :]


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